An arch-druid was buryed

‘At the Royal Society. Mr. Collison showed me a Druid bead of glass, enameled, found at Henbury, near Macclesfield. Henbury is the old grave, as our Saxon ancestors would call an old long barrow, where an arch-druid was buryed, and I suppose this ornament belonged to one. They wore such hanging from their neck.’ This is from the diaries of William Stukeley, an English antiquarian, physician and Anglican clergyman, who died 250 years ago today. Though trained as a physician, his life’s work - reflected in his diaries - was to explore and study the country’s antiquities. He is credited with pioneering the scholarly investigation of prehistoric monuments such as Stonehenge.

Born in 1687, in Holbeach, Lincolnshire, Stukeley grew up in an era of expanding scientific curiosity. His early education at Stamford School set the stage for a lifetime of intellectual pursuit, and in 1703, he entered Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, where he studied medicine and developed a fascination with antiquities. By 1710, he had qualified as a physician, establishing a practice in Boston, Lincolnshire. 

However, Stukeley’s interest in ancient monuments soon drew him away from medicine, and over the next decade he made extensive tours across Britain, meticulously sketching and documenting prehistoric sites. His travels led him to Stonehenge in 1719, where he undertook a first systematic study. After moving to London, he joined the Royal Society and became friends with Isaac Newton. The 1720s marked a period of intense study and fieldwork. He co-founded the Society of Roman Knights, dedicated to the study of Roman Britain, and became increasingly involved in Freemasonry. 

By 1721, Stukeley had been elected a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, this despite his continuing focus on antiquities rather than medicine. In 1724, he published Itinerarium Curiosum, a richly illustrated account of his travels. His life took a turn in 1726 when he married Frances Williamson (with whom he would have three daughters) and moved to Grantham. In 1739, two years after his first wife’s death, Stukeley married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Gale, dean of York, who brought a substantial marriage portion to the union. In 1740, he published Stonehenge: A Temple Restor’d to the British Druids, proposing that these monuments were built by ancient Druids.

In late 1747, Stukeley became the rector for St George the Martyr, Queen Square, a parish in Bloomsbury, London, and soon after moved permanently to the city. In 1753, he was selected as a trustee to help establish the British Museum, reflecting his standing in London antiquarian circles. He was also involved in the running of the Foundling Hospital. One of his last books, in 1752, was a memoir of Newton in which he mentions how a falling apple inspired the theory of gravitation. He died on 3 March 1765. Further information is available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, and the BBC.

Stukeley was an inveterate diary keeper. The Spalding Gentlemen’s Society holds a collection of his papers covering the years 1740 to 1751, and the Bodleian Archives & Manuscripts houses other papers including diaries. Many diary entries can be found in the three volumes of The Family Memoirs of the Rev. William Stukeley as edited by the Surtees Society in the 1880s. These volumes (available at Internet Archive) remain an important source for researchers studying Stukeley’s life and work, as well as for those interested in the development of antiquarian studies and archaeology in 18th-century Britain. Volume 1 contains an autobiographical memoir and some chronological diary extracts from his early life, as well as correspondence. Volumes 2 and 3, however, are not structured as a chronological survey of his life, but by geographical counties (each county chapter including different kinds of texts, inc. diaries).

Here are some diary extracts as found in volume 2.

26 May 1743

‘Mrs. Lepla told me of a Roman urn dug up at Thorney Abby, with the ashes, which they buryed again. She says there’s a high raised gravel road, Roman, from Thorney to Ely, which, I doubt not, belonged to the Carsdike navigation, bringing corn from Cambridg. She says they dig up much antidiluvian oak there, of huge dimensions. They made a maypole of one, together with deers’ horns and nuts.’

4 November 1744

‘Dined with the Archbishop of York in his journey to town. His Grace told me Mr. Roger Gale dyed with a prophecy in his mouth, according to report of the country, viz., that it would be a most excessively wet harvest, for so it proved in the north this year, though with us it was very favourable. Mr. Hill told us he ordered a certain oak tree to be cut down, brought into his yard, and to be sawn into planks, a fortnight before his death. No one knew his purpose till he dyed, and then a paper was found directing they should dig a grave for him in such a place in the churchyard 8 foot deep or deeper if the springs hindered not. They should plank the bottom of it with those oak planks. He ordered his coffin to be made of a certain shape which he drew out upon paper, which being laid upon the planks was to be bricked round the height of the coffin, and a particular large blew stone which he mentioned laid over the whole, then to be filled up with earth and fresh sods laid so as that it might not be discernible where he was laid, that he might be the sooner forgot, as he exprest it.’

December 1748

‘A dog was taken from London in a ship, carried to Newcastle, some victuals given him, and let goe at the same time that a letter was put into the post to his master at London. The dog never had been at Newcastle before, yet was at home before the letter. Many are the instances of this nature, well attested. Therefore I conclude providence has extended some universal principle to all animals, which we are apt to call instinct, like that of attraction, gravitation, cohesion, electricity, &c., imparted to mere matter. This principle overrules animals, and irresistibly draws them on to pursue the ends purposed by them, or to which they are designed by providence, without variation, such as bees making their inimitable combs, birds making the nests peculiar to their kind, &c, whilst man acts spontaneously and of his own free will, and therefore only accountable for his actions. Many like storys are told of cats, a more unlikely creature than dogs, which I know to be true.’

16 February 1749

‘At the Royal Society. Mr. Collison showed me a Druid bead of glass, enameled, found at Henbury, near Macclesfield. Henbury is the old grave, as our Saxon ancestors would call an old long barrow, where an arch-druid was buryed, and I suppose this ornament belonged to one. They wore such hanging from their neck. Henbury is at the head of the river Pever. Henshaw, the next town, old wood. A great forest hard by, and a very open country too.’

24 July 1749

‘My wife, daughters, Mrs. Wade and I, went to Waltham Cross. We saw the two posts remaining which I set down 25 years ago to guard the noble edifice. Nevertheless it has very much suffered since that time. We visited the Abby. The front of the great gate-house remains, and some part of the north side of the abbatial buildings. The present cellar is part of the old cloysters, as thought; ’tis arched at top. At the very end of it, they have fixed up against the wall the side of king Harold’s tomb; ’tis a black stone with a grotesc head carved on it, and some cherubims. We saw the famous tulip tree, now in flower. The east of the present church has exactly the same appearance as that of Crowland. In both places they have pulled down the choir and transept. Crowland first church was exactly the same as what now remains here. They were both magnificent cathedrals of the first style; semicircular arches, great pillars. The building on the south is said to have belonged to the nuns of Cheshunt. We visited the old house at the end of the town, said to have been the house where the famous John Fox the martyrologist lived, whose family still remains in the town. There is his picture; and Archbishop Cranmer lived in the same place; his study remains. Mr. Fowler, the curate, showed me an old town book from the dissolution; mention of the last abbot, Robert Fuller.’

28 January 1752

‘Rode to Cheshunt; observed a Hebrew inscription over a door in Hockley in the hole ; an inscription by Clarkenwel. The two posts remain which I set up at Waltham cross 30 years agoe, and without them this curious fabric had been quite demolished by this time. The lord of the manor, instead of repairing it, as he ought to do, gave leave for the adjacent alehouse to build against it and take part of it away. The 4 Swans there belonged to Waltham Abby. The suit of rooms where the chimnys are were made for the tenants to meet in on court days, and to lodg pilgrims in. I take it that 4 swans with a cross were the arms of king Harold, and he had a mistress, whom he called swan’s neck, who only could find his body out among the slain.’

25 January 1759 

‘At the Antiquarian Society. A pot of English coins of Henry II. found near Southampton, some cut in half for halfpennys, some in quarters for farthings.’

Got frantic & burst into tears

‘Lennie came over & I drank some lighter fuel - got frantic & burst into tears - walk in the park & bed at 5AM.’ This is a verbatim extract from the diaries of actor Vivian MacKerrell who died 30 years ago today. Never successful as an actor, his life was so colourful that his friend Bruce Robinson based a film - Withnail & I - on MacKerrell’s character and real-life exploits. Last year, MacKerrell’s diaries from the mid-1970s were put up for auction by Sotheby’s, and rich details of the contents were made publicly available. The lot, however, was withdrawn before sale without explanation.

MacKerrell was born in 1944 in London, the son of a Scottish accountant. He attended Trent College, a private school near Nottingham, and started an acting career in the early 1960s. He performed with Ian McKellen and John Neville at Nottingham Playhouse, before joining the Central School of Speech and Drama in London. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, he had a handful of television and film roles, but his most notable film appearance was in the 1974 horror film Ghost Story, also starring Marianne Faithfull. 

Despite his talent and striking presence, he struggled to secure major film or stage roles, leading to a life of artistic frustration and financial instability. In the mid-1970s, he lived with Bruce Robinson in a dilapidated house in Camden Town, London. However, by this time he had become a heavy drinker and was known for his eccentric behaviour. In his later years, MacKerrell worked for fashion designer Paul Smith in Nottingham. He developed throat cancer in his 40s, and, after a short remission in the mid-1980s, the illness returned and he underwent a laryngectomy. He died on 2 March 1995, in Gloucester. See Wikipedia for more information.

MacKerrell is remembered largely because Robinson used him as a template for Withnail, the dissolute yet charismatic out-of-work actor in Withnail & I - a highly successful and much-loved film written and directed by Robinson. Indeed, Robinson also wove MacKerrell’s real-life exploits, including alcohol-fueled misadventures and a reckless lifestyle, into his film’s script. McKerrell’s life received further exposure when the author Colin Bacon published a memoir, Vivian and I (Quartet, 2010).

Last year, one of the world’s pre-eminent auction houses, Sotheby’s was slated to sell a batch of Mackerrell’s private papers, including diaries - estimated to sell for £12,000-18,000. The auction house said: ‘These diaries, which have never before been seen beyond MacKerrell’s most intimate circle, allow us to hear the original caustic, rebarbative, self-pitying, debauched and hilariously funny voice that inspired Withnail.’ Unfortunately, the lot was withdrawn before the sale, and there’s no been no further news of them. Nevertheless, Sotheby’s substantial information on the lot is still available online. Here is the breakdown of what was in the lot.

i) The Country Gentlemen’s Diary 1974, pre-printed with one week per opening, filled with detailed daily entries beginning 26 January (“. . . Lennie came over & I drank some lighter fuel - got frantic & burst into tears - walk in the park & bed at 5AM. . .”), also with entries recording dreams, lists of songs, and miscellaneous notes, c.121 pages of handwritten text, in blue ink, black ink, and pencil, 8vo (215 x 155mm), blue cloth, binding worn

ii) Personal diary, with regular entries from 14 January to 20 May 1975 (“The diary ends here for the moment as I gradually began to feel better and decided to go up to Islay ...”), with a brief postscript on his visit to Islay, c.176 pages, plus blanks, in black ink and blue ink, 8vo (210 x 153mm), blue cloth

iii) Notebook, with fragments of creative writing in prose, occasional diary entries (26-30 March 1973), draft letters, and other notes, 41 pages, plus blanks, in black, blue and green ink, and pencil, 8vo (200 x 165mm), grey patterned boards

iv-viii) Five photographs of McKerrell: head and shoulders portrait, 204 x 250mm; head and shoulders portrait, 140 x 95mm, studio stamp on the reverse (Charles Domec-Carre of Brixton Hill); quarter-length profile portrait in theatrical costume, 230 x 90mm; sheet of 12 contact prints from a studio session, 251 x 202mm; all photographs creased and with abrasions to reverse where removed from an album’

And here are several partial extracts from MacKerrell’s diaries quoted in the lot press release.

18 March 1974

‘Up 10.00 to find B. had been up all night on coffee & speed - he was writing and fixing up the bathroom.’

25 March 1974

‘Up first - as usual and out for a copy of the Sun and a bottle of red - Bruce’s bunce [unemployment benefit] had not come. He got up after Leslie [Bruce’s girlfriend] had departed an hour late. He ‘phoned them but to no avail so he went out to purchase a bottle of Pernod while I had a bath. When I finished the bath I lashed into the pernicious liquor with him & also into reading Othello. Cassio is a difficult part - another goody goody - at least he displays one flaw getting pissed - shouldn’t have much difficulty there. Got a decent buzz of the Pernod and was slumped in front of the telly when Leslie came back with some soap.’

27 March 1974

‘Up at about 9.30 to go down to sign on with B[ruce]. The labour [exchange] seemed fuller than usual - they’ve cut down on staff - the buggers. After a pint and to Albert while B went to Kentish assio. I read and corrected more of ‘Withnail and I’, his book and when he came back we opened the bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé that L had put out in the window box to chill.’

29 March 1974

‘Up betimes and over to Spread Eagle for wine then another. Then changed into suits & B & I went for a large Pernod as a double bunce arrived for his . . . down to the Little Theatre to see Chick she said if B & I were to do the play she’d be worried about us being stoned - Christ I said - How dare you - and persuaded her that we had discipline at our fingertips . . . Back home by tube and so to kip with copy of men only. God what a fate. Must work work work.’

4 February 1975

‘The afternoon whirred on like the wine and I read a bit and dozed and saw that Margaret ‘Valium’ Thatcher has defeated Ted - and that two hours later ‘The Grocer’ has resigned the leadership.’

16 March 1975

‘I had intended to kip on the couch and nearly away - when I felt this scratching and pattering on my head - a mouse - on the couch I told it to fuck off and it disappeared thank god. The buggers are spreading and no poison can deal with them.’

2 May 1975

‘O Lord the march of time in its inexorable grey cloak - we’re into May now! No job, no chick and no bread - still nil Carborundum. And what is worse - as I peered into the dusty intestinal hall no Bunce! Fuck - I had a fag and coffee and hastened out to a blustery but hazily sunny day.’

My heart was beating

‘My heart was beating like some young student’s before the big exam. Was I going to be able to step out onto this land that I have been striving to reach for four years with so many sacrifices and struggles? And if so, shall I be able to do any useful work?’ This is from the diaries of Oscar Jászi, the much-admired Hungarian historian and politician known for his advocacy of liberal democracy and social reform. He was born 150 years ago today, and at the time of this diary entry was arriving for the first time in the United States, where he would soon join Oberlin College as a history professor.

Jászi was born on 2 March 1875 in Nagykároly (now Carei, Romania) to his physician father and his second wife. Unhappy with their Jewish origins, his father converted the family to Calvinism in 1881. Oscar studied political science at the University of Budapest, and although he had a low-paid and long-term job in the ministry of agriculture, he developed his interest in politics by studying the country’s agricultural policies. In 1900, he launched with friends the journal Huszadik Század (Twentieth Century), and, under a pseudonym, published combative articles about the countries social structures. A year later, Jászi and friends founded the Sociological Society, promoting liberal and democratic ideas. His research and writing focused on political sociology, nationalism, and the need for democratic governance.

During World War I, Jászi became increasingly involved in politics and was instrumental in the short-lived Hungarian Democratic Republic of 1918, serving as Minister for Nationalities in Mihály Károlyi’s government. He attempted to negotiate autonomy for Hungary’s ethnic minorities to prevent the disintegration of the country but was unsuccessful. Following the collapse of the republic and the rise of the communist regime under Béla Kun, followed by the right-wing counterrevolution, Jászi was forced into exile in 1919. First he went to Vienna where he worked to keep Hungarian democracy alive, and from whence he travelled extensively to meet with other emigres.

Jászi settled in the US in 1925, and was appointed a professor at Oberlin College in Ohio, continuing his academic work on nationalism and Eastern European politics. He remained a strong critic of authoritarianism in Hungary and the broader region, advocating for democratic federalism. He wrote several influential books, including Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Hungary and The Dissolution of the Habsburg Monarchy. He died in 1957. Further information is available at Wikipedia and in the major biography A Twentieth Century Prophet: Oscar Jászi 1875-1957 by György Litván (CEU Press, 2006 - available to preview at Googlebooks). 

Jászi left behind half a life time of diaries - written from 1919 until his death - in 39 notebooks, now held by Columbia University Libraries. Litván discusses these diaries in his preface: ‘From the very first sentence [. . .] it is clear that he had been keeping a diary before then, and that this was broken off during the turbulent days of the 1918 revolution and was obviously lost or destroyed during the Second World War, along with so many other documents. The Hungarian-language segments of the diary, from between 1919 and 1923, was published in 2001 by the Institute of Political History of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. The remaining, predominantly English-language segments are as yet unpublished, and use has been made of them only in connection with a few details (e.g. the recital given by Bela Bartok at Oberlin College or Jaszi’s 1947 trip to Hungary). With its detailed daily record of the weather, his own mood, his reading matter, meetings, lectures, correspondence, the articles or other pieces of writing that had been completed, college and domestic business, there can be little doubt that Jászi did not intend his diary to be published. Of course it proved to be of incalculable assistance in putting together this biography - particularly in the case of events, episodes or periods for which no other source exists or is known. (Among these, for instance, are the negotiations or conversations that he conducted with Masaryk, Benes, Maniu and other politicians, the internal disputes with fellow exiles in Vienna and America, and various other, far from exclusively political matters.) Still, the very amplitude of the diary material imposed a heavy responsibility on the author when it came to deciding which items of information might be omitted and which could not.’

Elsewhere in the biography, Litván gives a few verbatim extracts from the diaries buried in his text, as in this extract here [italics are for clarity only). 

‘The diary preserved every aspect of the almost month-long voyage [to the US] in exhaustive detail. Jászi already decided on the first day that his companions were of no interest, most of the travelers being Jewish emigrants from the Ukraine, though he did also hear some words of Hungarian. The food was moderate. As the ship put out to sea, “after all the anxieties, I was seized by a blithe contentment - as if I had been freed from five years imprisonment.” He repeats that several more times during the voyage, but various anxieties also resurface. On August 6th they docked a Varna, on the 8th there was “a marvelous passage through the Bosporus,” on the 9th they were held up at Istanbul, but by the 11th they had arrived at Piraeus, the harbor for Athens, where the ship was moored for several days, so that Jászi, despite the heat, walked round the Acropolis, as he had not previously visited Greece (nor was he to do so again). By the 14th they had reached Patras, from where the next day, with many new passengers on board, they made their way, without putting into harbor again, down the Mediterranean, through the Strait of Messina, past Sardinia and then the Algerian coast, through the Strait of Gibraltar to the Atlantic Ocean.

They were on the approaches to the port of New York, according to the diary, on August 30th: “My heart was beating like some young student’s before the big exam. Was I going to be able to step out onto this land that I have been striving to reach for four years with so many sacrifices and struggles? And if so, shall I be able to do any useful work?”

He passed the immigration controls on Ellis Island without incident. Even while still on the boat Jászi had received a letter from banker and industrialist Robert Caldwell in which the latter informed him that he would be at his service if there was anything he needed. They finally docked on September 1st: “And when the ship passed in front of the Statue of Liberty to enter the city fired by feverish activity, I was so overcome by emotion that I burst into tears on the ship’s bridge.” ’